White water

 

to be imagined:

the floating fading colours

of lemon lime mint

Dutch light in London

In the odd little riverside microclimate of the South Bank and its irredeemably ugly concrete arts complex, the light can be surprising and extraordinary.

Around the lake

 

  

Around the lake, an Autumn forest of tousled gold and green and purple.

more photos
 

 

 

 

while the tall reeds

and flowers sway softly

the heron stands still

 

 

Cat's eyes

 

 

 

 

 

Painted by a shy September sun

 

The sunshine has been rich and soft, if infrequent. Both when the sun shone and when it didn't, September's light was perfect for taking photos and I found I'd taken some I rather liked and that perhaps cohere around a certain mood.

Is it very sad, or very weird, to say that taking photos reassures me that I'm still alive? I think I felt a bit better about this after reading Loren on the twelfth anniversary of starting his blog, which is one of my favourites, full of wisdom, skill and joy in life. "Blogging is the mental equivalent of regular exercise.", he wrote, "Forcing myself to write here has kept me more alive than I ever thought possible." An intensely practical way of putting it, and I knew at once what he meant. It's how I feel about taking photos and how I felt for a long time about blogging.

 

So here we are again. I'm not sure right now if I'll be returning here for the long term or having a go at something else. But having a go at something. Making shapes and pictures with words and with my camera is too important, too fundamental, to walk away from.

A selection of September photos is here - best viewed as a slideshow.
 

 

Hot days, cool art

On a hot day recently, I'd been reading Lisa St Aubyn de Teran's book Mozambique Mysteries, about her life and work in the hot, green coastal mangrove-lands of remotest northern Mozambique. As I walked very slowly in the park, hot already by nine o'clock and steaming at noon, so green and lush after the heat exploding into downpours, it felt like a small, tame offshoot of the landscape she describes.

The watery light and fierce colours were very striking and my camera came out of its unseasonal hibernation. I'd risen early and by mid morning had been in the library, visited the Picture Gallery, walked in the flickering shade taking photos, and lingered in cafes. Lovely as the morning light had been and lucky as I was to be at liberty - a planned respite after strenuous efforts - the rest of the day loomed long and hot.

I was so glad, though, that I'd made it to the gallery before the height of the heat and crowds. I'm in love with the works of Mark Gertler in the current Crisis of Brilliance exhibition at Dulwich. This is an unsurprisingly popular show, including also Dora Carrington's moving portrait of Lytton Strachey and a lot more vivid, lovely work by young British artists just before, during and after World War I. But Mark Gertler's paintings, with their limpid intensity and that slight flattening that allows their sheer luminosity to provide the third dimension - well, some days later I can still feel the quivering of these. It's sad that his life (see above link) was not so luminous.

Shapes of summer

 

Too obvious, perhaps, but simple lines and shapes are always a pleasure, lifting the spirit crushed and dazzled by humid heat.

 

Body doubles

Dreaming of a stalwart double, made of some hard, resilient material, that would go out and deal with things for me, while my soft body aches and sighs and cringes from the heat. Is that why I find these vintage shop-window dummies so compelling?

Shade

Wishing there was more of this. Although, oh god, it was really hot even in the shade today.

On the Millenium Bridge

Technology, history, blue, red.